The Descent
by NuclearFirecracker
Summary: A short retelling of some of the events that transpired during *that* time, with Erik and Christine's relationship spiraling into chaos. This is one of the parts of my longer story, Alternatives, but it doesn't deviate from the canon so much and I thought it would work nice on its own as a short story.


The Descent

September 1893, Paris

Christine stood in the dark corridor on the first floor of the Opera that ended in nothing, wondering about the reason her heart was beating so frantically. She waited patiently, leaned on the wall, until the wall moved for seemingly no reason and she stumbled, falling into another pitch-black corridor. She held herself steady with her hand on the wall, blinking in the sudden biting cold that made her eyes water.

„Are you here? Where are you?" she asked, her voice slightly trembling.

„Right here. Next to you", the voice came from somewhere close, but the weird echo made it sound like it was coming from everywhere at once. She turned around, holding out her hands to try and feel her surroundings. He could sense it; the sudden movement of her hands waving much too close to his chest nearly stopped his heart – _from fear or excitement? –_ and he stepped back, trying to compose himself.

„Don't do that", the voice hissed at Christine.

She quickly put her hands down.

„Just walk. It's safe. I'll tell you where to go", he said. Christine really wished he would offer his hand to her so she wouldn't have to just walk blindly; if only to calm her down – she felt incredibly unsure walking through the darkness with nothing to hold on to.

Erik could barely see Christine tapping in the darkness slowly; she passed a crack in the wall that let a tiny sliver of light through, illuminating her shiny dark curls for a split second – it was such low light that she barely percieved it, but for a moment he could see her lovely eyes wide with fright.

„So you came", he said. „Why?"

„I read your note", she replied. The small note on her desk instructed her to come to the southern corridor of the first floor – after talking to a disembodied voice in her room for nearly three months, she had started to pester him regularly to come and meet her properly. This was not what she had imagined.

„You don't want to be here", he said. He tried to sound as calm as possible, but some of the bitterness still seeped through.

„No", she admitted after a short pause. „This corridor is creepy. And cold."

„Then go back", he said flatly.

„But – „ she started, unsure, „I wanted to meet you."

„This is me", he said. „Are you disappointed?"

„I thought you'd come... I thought I'd see you", she said, trying to sound confident. „I wanted to see you."

 _I'm afraid seeing me won't make this any less creepy,_ he thought. „No."

„What am I to do, then? Walk blindly through the cellars?" she asked. The tiny note of annoyance in her voice amplified as it echoed through the corridor. He kept silent for a moment.

 _She's afraid. She hasn't even been down yet, she hasn't even seen you, and she's afraid. Do you think it'll get better as she goes down? How much more fear can you stand to see on her face?_

He wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or scream, but he somehow managed to do neither of those; however, restraining himself and the voices in his head took too much of his composure and left him unwilling and unable to talk to her anymore. He just wanted to be alone. He rubbed at his temples, trying to compose a normal-sounding sentence.

„Go back", he said.

„What?" she asked, „No, wait, I – „

 _I'm sorry,_ she wanted to say, but the door behind her opened again. She turned around, confused by the sound, and tried to make out his shape in the shadows cast by the sudden light outside.

„Wait!" she said, but nobody answered. „I'm sorry if I offended you! What did I say? Why are you angry at me?" Christine was normally incredibly well-behaved and obedient towards all of her teachers; she didn't normally backtalk them or question the tasks they gave her, and she acted the same towards her mysterious singing tutor as well – but walking blind through creepy, pitch-black, haunted cellars was too much even for her. She wondered if this was her fault, and if she should be more respectful next time – she had obviously offended him somehow. He had been nothing but polite to her until this point. Her plea met only unforgiving silence, and she turned around and walked back into the light of day.

Erik watched her from a distance, invisible to her unaccustomed eyes. This was for the best, he told himself, even if it tore him apart to do it.

As Christine returned to her dressing room, she found new sheet music on her desk, along with a note.

 _This will be good for your vocal range. Make sure you practice the scales too, I know you've been skipping out on them. You'll only ruin your voice if you keep being careless. Read them and I'll contact you in a few days._

The paper was ripped on the bottom of the note, and Christine didn't think much of it as she picked up the new songs excitedly. Her teacher must have forgiven her after all, she thought as she opened the sheet music and started warming up.

Several floors below, Erik absentmindedly played with the ripped piece of paper as he thought about what he was going to do. He definitely needed more distance from her; his heart was still racing and his nerves felt like frayed threads. He opened the piece of paper in his hand and looked at it again. He had almost left it like that, before changing his mind and ripping the bottom from his letter. It sounded incredibly stupid, now that he looked at it again.

 _I'm sorry. You can come back if you want._

ooo

November 1893; Paris

Christine closed the door to her room and locked it carefully. She leaned her forehead on the door and breathed deeply, trying to calm her pounding heart down.

It was finally happening. Her dreams just might come true. She opened her eyes, realizing she could suddenly sense – in some way she couldn't explain – that she wasn't alone.

„Erik?"

„I'm here", she heard a voice behind her. She turned around to see a figure behind her, standing in the corner of the room with his hands behind his back. As usual, he was completely covered in clothing, the high collar of his coat ending just below the edge of his mask, the only thing on him that wasn't completely black. His hair was neatly tied in the back, and his eyes – a very bright, yellow color – were softer and kinder than usually, losing some of their unnerving intensity. She had seen glimpses of his appearance here and there, when they would meet, but never like this – he had actually fulfilled his promise to come in person this time.

„I promised to come if you auditioned, so here I am", he said. He had rehearsed that sentence so many times that it no longer held even a tiny note of insecurity – at least not obvious enough that she would notice it.

„And yet, you're still hiding behind the mask", she remarked. „Why won't you tell me who you are?"

He kept silent, considering going back down after all.

„I apologize, maestro", she bowed charmingly, uncharacteristically bold now while adrenaline was still coursing through her veins. „You may keep your mysteries."

He forced himself to calm down. „In any case, I just came here to congratulate you."

„You heard all of that?" she gasped at him, her eyes twinkling with some new light in them.

„Of course."

She laughed a charming laugh that sounded like a thousand tiny bells – he wondered if she was aware how much different her laugh sounded today from when he first saw her.

„You were incredible", he bowed his head at her. „Congratulations. You just got your first leading role."

She clasped her hands over her mouth. „I can't believe it! What am I going to do?"

„Sing, obviously", he replied. „Isn't this what we've been preparing for?"

„I'm not – „

„You're ready", he interrupted. „They'll adore you."

„You think so?" she said. „You think they'll notice me, next to all the beautiful soloists?" do you think _he_ will notice me, she almost asked but stopped herself. She didn't feel it was appropriate to discuss her secret love for a young nobleman who barely noticed her with her music teacher.

„On the contrary, I couldn't notice anyone else when you were on the stage", he blurted out. He didn't mean to say it. It was stupid, so stupid, he fumbled and wished he could disappear, but she suddenly smiled at him with such sincere brilliance he felt his chest melting from the inside.

„I'm so glad you liked it!" she said. „I'm so glad it's finally good enough!"

„Almost", he pointed out. „We'll polish some details."

„Now?" she asked. „I'm.. I'm kind of tired, and... Meg is waiting for me..."

„Do you have better things to do?" he asked coldly.

„Well.. no..." she trailed off. She did, actually, have things she wanted to do, but she was worried she would seem lazy. What did she know about how real musicians worked? Maybe she really needed to put in some more sacrifice to make her ambitions come true.

„It won't take long. I don't want you to strain too much. We'll just go over some details", Erik took out some sheet music. He automatically took off his gloves and set them aside, as he normally did when he was alone. He didn't even realize he had done it until he noticed her staring at his hands in shock.

„What's wrong with your hands?" she asked, wide-eyed. His fingers were bruised with dry blood stuck in the cracked fingernails. She wondered how on earth it wasn't causing him pain.

„Nothing", he hissed, hiding them behind his back and turning to put back his gloves. „My hands, if anything, are perfectly normal." Well, usually, at least. He was so obsessed with making every part of Christine's lessons perfect that the obsessiveness, once he stopped checking himself as Antoinette taught him, spilled over into everything else he did. When he wasn't obsessively practicing things he would teach Christine, what exactly he would say to her and how and when, what he would play for her and when he would see her, he was obsessively playing his violin to try and keep grounded in reality. It wasn't doing much for him, even as he lied to himself that it would get better in time. The results were becoming visible on his body.

„You're injured", she said quietly. She felt the need to reach out her own hand to him, but was too afraid to do it.

„Nothing for you to worry about. We have more work to do", he said. „Don't let this one audition get to your head. You've got a long way to go if you truly want to reach greatness."

„As you say", she nodded.

„Start from the top of the page, then. Here, you'll need to add some accents", he pointed with his gloved finger, determined not to slip like this ever again.

ooo

December 1893; Paris

Christine looked at the broken mess of a man she once considered her friend, tears streaming down his massacred face, and realized she no longer felt any of her previous admiration, any of her dying need to please him and be good enough for him. He dragged her by her arm all the way down, not stopping when she stumbled in the dark, not turning to ask if she was alright – just pressing on, rambling furiously some disconnected nonsense she couldn't decipher. He pushed her into his house, locking the door behind them and turning to her. The horrible misery on his face was slowly being replaced by something else. She couldn't tell what that emotion was. It didn't seem like something a human being would be capable of feeling. Christine backed away until her back met the wall; the movements of his limbs looked like branches being swayed carelessly by the wind as he walked towards her and stopped only a few feet away from her.

She wished she could just simply kill him, or even herself, and end this hell. She couldn't look at her teacher – friend – protector – become this...

„Let me go!" she demanded.

„No", he said flatly. Or _somebody_ said it. Something must have produced that sound - even if the eerie mannequin-like presence in front of her looked unable to form normal human words.

„Then let me die!" she raised her voice desperately.

„No", he repeated. His fingers twitched and trembled unnaturally; she wondered if he was trying to stop himself from doing something.

„What do you want from me, then?" her pleas were getting more frantic.

„I want nothing from you", he said, and thought about it for a second. „No. That is wrong. I want everything. I want you."

She stared at him in horror for a moment, unable to form a sentence strong enough to express how much she hated him. Instead, she said the first thing that came to her without thinking.

„I am not a doll for you to posess!"

„I don't want a doll", he said, seemingly having lost his capacity to understand figures of speech. His shoulders started twitching as well. „I want you", he said quietly, with sudden unexpected gentleness.

„You – you can't have me!" she screamed. „I'll fight you, now and every day until I die! I'll go to hell cursing your name, you unforgivable monster! I'd rather die than stay trapped here!"

„Understandable", he said, his tone becoming empty again. The twitching was becoming worse. „It's what I would have done as well, if I could."

She stared at him frozen for a moment.

„Unfortunately, I couldn't do that, and neither can you", he said. „So now we're both stuck here."

„Why? Why are you doing this?" she started crying openly, burying her face in her hands.

He thought about it for a moment. „To keep you here with me", he said finally. He really thought it would be obvious to her. It was obvious even to him, even with the myriad of voices that screamed and hissed and echoed in his mind, stopping him from thinking clearly.

„Wh- why? Why? Why? Can't you just let me live in peace? Does it not matter to you at all what I want?" she desperately hoped she could find a way to reach somehow behind this pointless, circular argument.

„It does. What do you want? I tried to give you everything you wanted." the twitching of his arms calmed a little bit, and he pressed his fingers to his temples to try and protect himself from the hateful voices – both inside and outside his head.

„I want freed-„ she started, and stopped as she heard loud banging on the door. He raised his head to look at her again, and the terror she felt was for a moment reflected in his eyes before midnless fury took its place.

He was over at the door before she could even blink, and opened it in one swift motion to reveal the tall handsome man standing behind it – the man didn't expect the door to open so soon, and certainly didn't expect the punch that landed in his stomach and took out his breath, leaving him hunched over to gasp for air. The next one came from below, and sent him crumbling to his knees. Another one sent him flying until he was lying on the floor, rope tightening around his wrists and neck. He didn't even have a chance to say a word before it was done.

„Please, please, stop", Christine cried. „Please, don't hurt him. Don't kill him. I'll do anything you want."

„He'll come back when I'm not looking", the shell echoed with Erik's voice. „He'll kill me."

„He won't! I promise! Just leave him! He's not dangerous!"

Erik's head turned to the man gasping unmovingly on the floor, then to the crying girl again, and the ghost inside him proposed an idea.

„If you stay here with me, I'll let him go", it said. „If you don't, I'll kill him."

Christine's head cleared, filling with sharp anger instead of panic as she realized she'd walked right into a trap. From now on, nothing she did would matter. No matter what she did, she would not win this. Raoul looked at her with pleading eyes, mouthing _don't do this, let me die, it's fine, don't do this_ over and over again. He had promised Madame Giry he would try to calm him down before he did anything else; he couldn't believe he failed so spectacularly before he had a chance to even say anything and kept silent, afraid to let out another word that would make it all worse.

„I trusted you", she screamed. „I – I thought you were my friend! I thought – „

„You were wrong", the ghost said with sudden sadness in his voice. „I lied."

„You said you loved me!"

„I do." Again, it seemed obvious. Why was she checking? As if it had changed in the meantime?

„You can't force me to love you back!" she screamed, giving up the hope that she would find a better way to say it. „Even if I wanted to, I couldn't! I can't! I love him! You can't change that!" she lost her voice again, and the last remnants of her anger, and simply stood there crying.

„I know that", he said. The twitching was intensifying again. „I just want you to stay here. I'd be stupid to hope you'd love me back. I'm not even – not even – even – h – h - " he stopped, closing his eyes and putting his hands on his head again, pulling on his long disheveled hair.

Christine watched in terror as it happened, unable to understand what was going on. A few more tears streamed down his face, and he forced himself to open his eyes and look at her.

„You have to decide", the ghost repeated.

She blinked at him. She knew already what she would do – the only thing she could do – but something still bothered her. Eternity of darkness was a long time, and she had one more moment to ask before she took the jump.

„What are you, then?" she asked numbly. She had no idea what she was asking or why.

His eyes looked back at her. What did it matter, anyway? The deal was still here. It would be here no matter what she said. He struggled to think about it.„I am a hole in the ground", he said. „I am nothing. Black spots and screaming. And sharp. I was something else, but I can't remember."

She nodded. It sounded about right. The hole demanded a sacrifice, and she would oblige. Maybe she would find Erik at the bottom of it when she jumped in. Hopefully.

She cast another glance at Raoul who was still mouthing the same silent mantra – _don't do it, don't do it, save yourself_ – and gathered her courage. Very slowly, she closed the distance between her and the ghost as he watched her carefully and stood so close to him that she could see the tears on the mangled skin of his cheeks even in the dim light. She closed her eyes, whispering „I'll stay, then", and kissed him lightly on the lips. She had to stand on her toes to reach him, even as he was already hunched over her. She didn't dare touch any other part of him, as he was already starting to shake when she drew closer.

When she pulled away and opened her eyes, he was still staring at her.

She looked at him expectantly for a moment when she realized the twitching had stopped.

His eyes widened, some new humanity emerging from deep within them.

And then he started to cry.

He cried silently as he kneeled down and untied Raoul, throwing the ropes away, and he cried as he cast another quick glance at her, moving past her, stumbling back toward his house. She tried following him, but he turned around and waved his hand at her to stop.

„Go back", he said. She remembered the first time she heard him say it, in the dark corridors.

„What?"

„You're free", he repeated. „Go back, now."

Raoul stood up behind her. He was still unstable on his feet, but he didn't look too injured to walk. She hurried to help him on his feet and he hugged her frantically, whispering to hurry as his throat was still too coarse to speak properly. She turned back to Erik, who was still watching her. Even so, she could see he was still hoping she would stay, and for a moment her anger was gone. Asking Raoul to wait for a moment, she walked up to him, took his hand as he almost winced back and placed a small ring in his palm.

„You were Erik", she said. „Before the hole swallowed you. I have to go now."

„Forget me", he told her before turning around and disappearing into the shadows.

 _I won't,_ she thought. She turned around and walked away with Raoul at her side. Neither of them could bear to look back.

 _A/N:_ _Thanks for reading! If you feel like this left at a sour note and would like to see it continued, feel free to check out my other story Alternatives which begins right where this one left off. :) Have a nice day!_


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